


I Will Protect You

by after_dark_fangirl



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Attempted Rape/Non-Con, BAMF John, BAMF Sherlock, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Harriet being a good sister, Hurt John Watson, Hurt Sherlock, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mycroft Being a Good Brother, Mycroft's Meddling, Parental Lestrade, Parental Mrs. Hudson, Paternal Mycroft, Physical Abuse, Protective John, Protective Mycroft, Protective Sherlock, Rape/Non-con Elements
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-02
Updated: 2015-05-02
Packaged: 2018-03-28 17:43:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3863908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/after_dark_fangirl/pseuds/after_dark_fangirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was a mess here. Everything was thrown about, chairs and sofas upended. Sherlock and John were in the center of this mess, huddled together closely, covered in blood. A man lay a couple feet away from them, white shirt covered in blood unbuttoned and trousers and pants pulled down to his ankles. The man's arms were twisted in unnatural angles and His face was turned so it was facing Lestrade and a bunch of police officers. His eyes were widened in shock and it looked like his whole face was broken. </p><p>Lestrade started when Sally Donovan said, "What in the hell happened here?"</p><p>__</p><p>John and Sherlock were having a normal day, well, normal for them when it includes experimenting on eyeballs, when they are kidnapped straight out of their flat. Missing one day before Lestrade is texted with a location and heads immediately over there. What they find is horrific. Sherlock and John are injured and emotional messes and need putting back together. They become dependent on each other and don't let anyone know the full extent on what happened there. Can the help of friends and family heal the pair and help them to become their regular selves again?</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Will Protect You

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fanfic! Please be gentle but I'd love constructive criticism! Not brit-picked or edited but I try my best.

Greg Lestrade had been calling Sherlock and John's cells all day with no answer. He'd been trying to get in touch with them since this morning and it was late afternoon now and he had no luck. He knew he shouldn't rely on Sherlock so much but this case had been particularly troubling. Four victims, each one's fingers cut off and put in a satin bag and delivered to the Yard. The victims were killed, fingers chopped off, and then the Yard received a letter with the location of the body. Greg and the Yard were on the ends of their rope, no clues whatsoever to give them a lead. Sherlock was all Greg had now and of course he couldn't be reached! He'd even called John and with no answer either. He was now left with two options, call Mycroft (and he really didn't want to have to call The British Government) or head to 221B Baker Street. He chose going to 221b (obviously).

As soon a Greg arrived, he flew out of the car and knocked on the door. No answer. He knocked again, louder. He heard scrambling and then the door was opened. Mrs. Hudson, dressed in a plain dress and apron, covered in flour opened the door. "Well hello Detective Lestrade. How can I help you? Here to see the boys?"

Lestrade nodded with a frown. "Been calling them for awhile with no answer. They've been here the entire time?"

"I don't know dear. It's been quite quiet up there for awhile." Mrs. Hudson replied following the Detective up the stairs. "They had quite the domestic late last night but ever since then, I've heard nothing."

Lestrade's frown deepened. "What do you mean?"

"I heard shouts coming from their flat. It's something I'm used to so I ignored it." Mrs. Hudson said and as she thought about it, Greg could see that he's worried the kind landlady.

"They've probably separated to their own bedrooms, wanting to be left alone." Greg tried to reassure her, but failing at reassuring himself. He felt a trickle of worry as they stood at the door to John and Sherlock's flat.

She didn't look convinced but nodded.

Greg knocked on the door loudly. No answer. He knocked again. And again. And again. No answer each time. He called out "Sherlock! John!" but heard no reply.

His worry deepened. He prayed that they weren't kidnapped. Sherlock almost always picked up when he called and when he didn't he texted or John called. Neither were picking up and no texts. Nobody was answering the door. Greg turned the doorknob, even though he knew it was most likely locked but it opened. "Mrs. Hudson, go downstairs."

Mrs. Hudson took one look at his expression and disappeared down the stairs and into her own flat. Once he heard the door close, Greg laid hand on his pistol and opened the door. He entered the flat and looked around. Nothing seemed different. It was a bit of a mess but that was as usual. Greg checked their bedrooms, the bathroom, and lastly the kitchen. The kitchen was in shambles. Sherlock's beakers were shattered and liquid was spilled. Fingered were scattered underneath the chairs and the table was overturned. Blood was splattered here and there. Lestrade immediately picked up his phone and made a call.

_

Officers were searching all over Sherlock and John's flat, looking for any clues at all. They'd been here for at least an hour. Nothing was found so far besides identifying that the blood on the floor was John's. Greg was getting worried more and more. He decided it was time to call Mycroft. He called the third number on his speed dial.

One ring. Two rings. "Hello Gregory."

"Mycroft, where are Sherlock and John?" Greg demanded.

"I do not know my brother or his companion's whereabouts but I can promise you I am looking into it." Mycroft said, calm as ever.

Greg almost growled as Anderson held up a teddy bear wearing a cameo patterned beret and laughed. He glared and Anderson quickly shut up. This was not some fucking joke. Something had happened here and making fun of John and Sherlock's possessions was not helping.

"I'll let you know once I find something. Good day DI Lestrade." Mycroft said before hanging up. Greg wanted to throw his phone. They had nothing to go on and Mycroft was being an arse. At this rate, Greg wouldn't know anything. Just perfect.

Just as Greg was about to leave the flat, his phone beeped from a text. He quickly looked at it. "913 Abernathy Street. JW." It was from an unknown number but he was sure that the JW stood for John Watson. He quickly called off the search and ordered everyone to the address he was just texted. He shouted out explanations as they all filed out of the flat and into their respective cars. He forwarded the text to Mycroft before hopping into his own car and pulling out.

_

The address led to an abandoned warehouse. It was old and covered in rot. The place was surrounded and waiting for Greg's order to enter. The sun was setting now, it was almost an hour's drive up here and it was getting dark. Donovan and another officer were next to him at the front entrance. Greg nodded and and Donovan and the officer broke the door down. All three of them ran into the room and stopped in their tracks at the sight.

It was a mess here. Everything was thrown about, chairs and sofas upended. Sherlock and John were in the center of this mess, huddled together closely, Sherlock practically laying in John's lap, covered in blood. A man lay a couple feet away from them, white shirt covered in blood unbuttoned and trousers and pants pulled down to his ankles. The man's arms were twisted in unnatural angles and His face was turned so it was facing Lestrade and a bunch of police officers. His eyes were widened in shock and it looked like his whole face was broken.

Greg started when Donovan said "What the hell happened here?"

John's head whipped up and around from being pressed against Sherlock's as he leaned and he looked at them. His face was cut in places and he had a bruise forming underneath his left eye. His tan jumper was stained with blood, especially in the area where Sherlock's head was pressed. His eyes were unfocussed and he looked at them with a mixture of fright and anger. His hand came up to wipe the blood that was leaking from the cut above his eye and Greg saw that his knuckles were bleeding and bruised. John's other hand was tucked underneath Sherlock's Belstaff which was draped over Sherlock.

Sherlock, well Greg couldn't really assess him as he was covered by his coat and he was buried deep in John's arms. As Greg approached them, John gave a threatening look and clutched Sherlock closer. Sherlock gave a whimpered noise and John leaned back down so his face was pressed again Sherlock and he spoke so softly Greg couldn't here what he said.

John stood, carefully lifting the top half of Sherlock's body off of him. Sherlock clutched at his hands, face still turned away from Greg's view. More officered filtered in the room and went up the stairs to the second floor and some head to the basement. Greg ignored them all as he stepped even closer to the pair. He reached a hand towards Sherlock to help him up and said "Are you two al-" He was interrupted as John shoved him away from Sherlock.

"Don't touch him!" John hissed, his voice dripping with venom.

Greg immediately held up his hands. "I'm not going to hurt you John. Or Sherlock. It's Lestrade. Are you two alright?"

Sherlock gave a groan filled with pain and Lestrade took that as a no.

He turned around and ordered Donovan, who was standing there, to get the paremedics. She turned around immediately and left. John reached down and picked Sherlock's lanky body up into his arms. Sherlock seemed to be naked, the belstaff the only thing hiding his flesh. Lestrade went to help John to hold Sherlock because surely Sherlock was too much for an injured man to carry but John just backed away and Sherlock's arms came up to wrap around John's neck.

"We're bringing help, mate." Greg spoke calmly.

John walked around him with Sherlock in his arms and exited the room. Greg didn't know whether it was a smart idea to make a move to grab Sherlock for John looked like he would kill anyone who touched him so he just simply followed behind the two.

John led Sherlock over to the paramedics who were running over to them and laid Sherlock on the gurney that they brought with them. Greg finally got a look at Sherlock's face. It was bruised in places but other than that it was fine. He couldn't tell much about his body though as John pulled the Belstaff out from under Sherlock and laid it over the front of his body. As the paramedics tried to unlatch Sherlock's arms from around John's neck, Sherlock started to scream. That didn't stop the paramedics though as they continued their struggle. Greg tried to stop them but one of the paramedics pulled out a needle and sedated Sherlock. John started to shout, trying to shove everyone away from Sherlock and two officers had to help Lestrade restrain him as they wheeled Sherlock away. They put John on another gurney and sedated him too as he wouldn't stop thrashing about. Both got loaded into separate ambulances.

Lestrade turned away and went back to the building to find out what the hell had gone on in here.

_

John lay in a hospital room, staring up at the ceiling. Sherlock, Sherlock, Sherlock, he chanted in his head. He had asked and asked about him when the nurses came in to check on him but nobody told him anything except that he was still sleeping. John didn't know how long he'd been asleep but he was no longer tired. Alright, that was a lie but he didn't care about his body. All he cared about was his Sherlock, Sherlock, Sherlock.

He heard a knock at the door and a moment later Lestrade entered. He looked resigned, and tired, exhaustion written all over his face. "John. How are you feeling?"

John looked at him in a manner not unlike an owl and answered. "Sherlock. Where is he?"

"He's asleep, John. He needs to rest and heal. How are you?" Lestrade said, saying the same thing the doctors and nurses said. John struggled against the things tying him down but they didn't give. He'd caused quite the ruckus when he first woke up and he still wasn't trusted to be let out of the bonds.

"I'll be fine when Sherlock is. Raise the bed for me?" John said.

Lestrade shook his head at him but went to the bed and pressed the button to raise John in a sitting position. Once John was comfortable, Lestrade sat down in the visitors chair by the bed and started to question John. "Four broken ribs and two bruised ones, a broken wrist, bruised and cut hands, several cuts on your face, and a sprained ankle. How?"

John looked down at his casts and bandages. He'd been clothed in only pants and he'd asked the blanket to be removed so it was tucked under his feet. He ignored Greg's question and asked his own. "What are Sherlock's injuries?"

"I don't know. I wasn't allowed in the room and no one will tell me anything. Mycroft might know. Shall I call him in?"

John nodded.

Lestrade rose and opened the door and motioned for someone to come forward. Mycroft entered the room, umbrella in hand. He strode over to the bed and leaned against the side of it. "Doctor Watson."

"Mycroft, how is Sherlock?" John asked immediately.

"He is fine, dear doctor. He rests now though they say he should be awakening anytime now. As soon as he does awaken, You'll see him." Mycroft said and as if right on cue, a mixture of a wail and a scream erupted from the room next to John's. Sherlock, John thought.

They here noises from the other room and a couple of moments later, the screams quieted and Mycroft turned to John as the door opened. A nurse wheeled in a wheelchair. The man helped John into it as John tried to keep from screaming in pain and Mycroft then pushed him out of the room and into the one next to his. Sherlock was laying in a bed, his face turned towards the door expectantly. Greg and Mycroft helped John into the bed next to Sherlock and Sherlock immediately curled around John.

John's arms wrapped around Sherlock's waist and Sherlock buried his face in his neck. He was wearing just a hospital gown and John's hand slipped under it to soothingly rub his back. John whispered sweet nothing's and reassurances in Sherlock's ear and he shivered.

Lestrade looked at the sight in front of him and then at Mycroft and they both exited the room together.

"Do you know what happened?" Greg asked.

"You need not worry, Gregory. I will take care of them now." Mycroft answered and he rounded the corner and disappeared as Greg seethed.


End file.
